The Legend of Zelda: Four Sword: The Cursed Blade
by Hragon
Summary: The most sacred weapons are cursed. The fate of Hyrule is in the hands of four young heroes of a different world that can hardly get along themselves. Legends unfold, prophecies are uncovered, and the fight between good and evil escalates to one of epic proportions.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Legend of Zelda series, or any of its content.**

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Dark clouds hung over Hyrule. A heavy rain had been pouring for several days now. The bullets of water pounded relentlessly upon the windows of all the residences the city; a screaming wind tore several windows open as it seeped through the bones of the city's inhabitants. It was so incredibly dark in the soaking streets. Day could hardly be told from night.

All but one dismissed the storm as being just a rare occurrence. They were convinced that it would blow over in a few days, and then they could continue happily about their daily business.

But one knew better.

She knew, but all she could do was sit and stare at the streams of water trickling down the stained glass window in her quarters, waiting. She knew that even though the rain may stop, there was a storm coming that was far worse than any force of rain and water could amount to.

The storm had come several days before, nearly a week ago. At first she had thought nothing of it, not even when the back of her hand began to throb. But the throbbing grew worse . . .

On the third day, she had noticed a significant change. The throbbing was almost unbearable, but there was a new appearance on her hand. The peculiar mark on her hand that symbolized the power she and her ancestors had been blessed with had appeared. It glowed with a blinding, sickly light, and every time the light pulsated an abrupt pain lashed across the back of her hand.

The six other guardian Sages had been called upon immediately and sent to the sacred chambers, but it was too late. The door was locked. For days more they had tried to unlock the door, but it was of no use. No matter how they tried, there was a force inside far greater than any of them could possibly imagine. But the Sages and everyone else would have worked themselves to death to pry the door open. That wouldn't have done anyone any good. So she had, a few days ago, called off all attempts to break into the chamber. Instead, it would be checked regularly to see if whatever evil was inside had left.

The girl smiled bitterly to herself as she massaged her aching hand, transferring her gaze from the window to the glowing mark. If this mark was to bless her with such wisdom, then why couldn't she have been able to see this coming?

She sighed. She knew that wisdom was very different from being able to foresee the future, being all-knowing. But it was just so awful, to sit here, waiting . . .

The light dimmed. She gasped as the throbbing stopped, and brought her hand to her face just as the last light faded.

_Now . . . what could that mean?_ she mused, though she thought she already knew.

Her suspicions were confirmed when there was a knock at her door and, without waiting for her reply, it was swung excitedly open. One of the Sages stepped into the room. "Princess Zelda—"

Zelda stood. "It seems this awful waiting is finally over."

* * *

The stone door to the sacred chamber had crumbled to the ground. The once great door was now piles of rubble scattered about the entrance, made up of grains finer than specks of sand.

Zelda and the six other Sages could do nothing more than stare in dismay at the destruction before them. One of the Sages began to explain that she had been watching the temple for signs of change, when all of a sudden the door disintegrated.

A final bolt of lightning streaked through the air, followed by a clap of thunder; but, the storm was already breaking up. The rain had receded to no more than a heavy drizzle. Zelda took that as a sign was a sign that the city was safe for the moment.

Using the term "safe" loosely, of course. Very loosely.

Zelda was the first to move. She carefully climbed the few stairs there were to the temple and entered the gaping doorway. The Sages followed some distance behind. Zelda found she could hardly breathe for fear of what might be found inside.

At first they could see nothing; it was too dark, until one of the Sages allowed the torches that lined the walls of the great chamber to light. Several Sages gasped as the room lit up; some cried out, and even Zelda brought her hand to her mouth.

The room looked largely untouched. The stained glass of all the windows in the room was intact; so were the stone walls. The statue of the three goddesses: Din, Nayru, and Farore, however, was destroyed. Bits of the statue were littered all over the floor. Din was the one most intact; however, her statue was missing a leg and both arms. A large part of her face had been blown off as well. Nayru's head lay at Zelda's feet, having rolled to near the entrance, were Zelda was now standing. What was left of Farore—the most disfigured statue of the three—was scattered around the pedestal in the center of the room.

However, even the horrible sight of the statues was nothing compared to the pedestal. A single sword of legend had always stuck out of the pedestal. It was true that when the chosen hero touched it, both it and the hero would split into four. But whenever in the pedestal, both it and the hero would become one again. But this time . . .

There were _four_ swords stuck in the pedestal, each protruding at a different angle. Not _one_.

The Four Sword had already been split.

One of the Sages muffled a quiet sob at the sight. "Who has done such a thing?" she whispered.

"The Four Sword—"

"It's split!"

"But how?—"

"A curse," Zelda said gravely. She could sense it even while standing across the room. "Evil magic has been done here these past few days. I'm certain that whoever was here meant to destroy the blade. They must have underestimated its power, and so could only curse it instead."

"What has the curse exactly done, your Highness?"

Zelda strode towards the pedestal. As she walked, she said, "The Four Sword is a blade of legend that splits both itself and its wielder into four personalities. Even if someone fitting to wield the sword were to come along now, since the sword has already split itself, that person will not be able to use it. Its power can only be used when the single sword and single wielder are split together. Otherwise, both are useless."

There was a deadly silence in the room for several long moments. "There is a dark force at work here," one of the Sages said uneasily. "Are we able to stop it?"

"There must be a way around this curse," another Sage said. "It may be split in four, but why must the wielder be also? Surely we could find four able knights to wield the swords."

"It's true!" the third cried.

"Then we shall spread the news immediately," another declared. "A contest will be issued to determine who is worthy enough to wield the swords."

"Let all the knights in Hyrule come! Let them come and prove their loyalty to their country."

"Only the most experienced, wisest noblemen shall have the swords. Call them, and bid they come quickly."

The Sages turned towards Princess Zelda, who was still standing before the pedestal. "Princess, what are your thoughts on this subject?"

Zelda did not answer at first. Instead, she knelt down beside the pedestal and clasps her hands tightly in prayer to the goddesses. "You have my permission to do as you think is best. Please leave me be for now. As a final word of parting advice, please consider that a sword chooses its master before it can be truly powerful; a master impudent enough to choose his own sword is foolish."

They knew better than to question her. Quietly, the Sages left her in peace.

Zelda closed her eyes and waited for the words to come, hoping beyond hope that the goddesses would hear her silent plea.

_I know little of the prophecy, but I do know _of_ it . . . is this the time of despair of which it speaks? Has the time truly come?_

_Please, goddesses . . . we need your strength._

_Help us. Help us; send a sign for the heroes to set them on their way . . ._

_Before it's too late._

At her pleading words, she noticed that the mark on her hand began to glow ever so softly. After a few seconds, it faded. Slowly, she unclasped her hands.

There was nothing else to do now but wait. Zelda stood and turned to leave. Her mind had so many things on it that it felt as though a thick fog had settled over her thoughts. She was disturbed. Very, very disturbed.

So caught up in her thoughts was she that at first she didn't hear the tiny chirp. She was almost to the door before two, then three more chirps joined in with the first. She heard it then and, in surprise, spun around to survey the room.

Everything was in order besides the now-misshapen swords. But she knew she'd heard something. Cautiously, Zelda crept forward, back up to the pedestal. Still no sign of anything . . .

Hesitantly, she reached out her hand to touch the hilt of a sword. As her fingers grew closer to the hilt, and she couldn't help but shudder at the thought of all the evil sorcery that must have been hurled at the blade.

Her fingers brushed the pommel; but they had done no more than that when a small, reptilian head poked out from behind hilt.

Zelda drew her hand back with a sharp gasp of surprise, and the head ducked back behind the blade. Even though it had hidden itself, it did not appear to be afraid of her; rather, it seemed curious. It peered around the blade at her several times. As she stared at the four swords, she noticed three more small heads, each behind a sword, and each staring at her with mild wonderment.

"Dragonflies," Zelda said softly. She had calmed down and, the dragonflies, reassured by this, flew out from behind the swords. There were four of them: small, delicate little dragons that emanated a soft, golden glow of light from their little bodies. They flew about around her head for a few moments before halting, and hovering, at her eye level. One cried out playfully.

"What are you doing here?" Zelda asked of them, reaching out her hand. They nipped at her fingers. "Dragonflies haven't been seen in . . . . They were thought to have disappeared . . ."

Of course, Zelda had the notion that she knew exactly what they were doing here. Dragonflies possessed limited, but powerful, magical ability, and they were highly intelligent . . .

Zelda could hardly hold in her relief and gratitude. "O, great goddesses, you have heard my plea. Here." She had to give them something. Zelda carefully concentrated on her outstretched hands. It took all of her strength to send what magic she possessed to her fingertips. A ball of shining light formed, disrupting the dragonflies' play. It grew until it was fairly large in diameter.

"There," Zelda panted, letting go of the magic to wipe the sweat from her forehead. Conjuring magic was quite a job. "Take it. It should be enough to get you where you need to go."

The dragonflies seemed to know what to do. Each absorbed a part of the orb of magic Zelda had provided for their use. Then, with quick popping noises, each disappeared through a small portal of its own creation.

_Please_, she prayed as she watched each creature disappear. _Please, let them find the heroes!_


	2. Stay Away from Me

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Legend of Zelda, or any of its content.**

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"Your tests are graded; I'll hand them back to you so you may see your grade, class."

The class groaned as one as the aged woman made her way to her desk and picked up a large pile of papers, snapping the rubber band off of them. When she turned around, several people had their heads on their desks in an attempt to sleep, while others doodled in the margins of their notebooks, bored while they were prisoners waiting for the bell to ring.

The teacher scowled. "I wouldn't look as uninterested as you, if it were me in your seats. If you cared a little, your test scores would reflect it. Instead, all that your grades reflect is _this_." She dropped the first of the tests on the desk of its owner. A "fifty" was written in red ink and circled on the front page.

"Honestly," the teacher said, continuing the desk of the next student and giving the next test back. "I'm very disappointed in your performances. Some of you did well, but . . ."

Several people weren't paying her the slightest attention. She picked up the wooden yardstick.

_CRACK_.

She slammed the stick into the desk of the nearest student that was paying her no mind, which was that of a lean, green-eyed, blonde boy, who proceeded to jump out of his seat with a yelp. "Pay _attention_, Arthur," she said, slamming the book he had been doodling in shut and tossing it into his open backpack. The students surrounding him began to laugh as he sat back down, but they were immediately quieted by the teacher's stern eye.

"You shouldn't be laughing," she said, still brandishing her yardstick, and dropped a test on the desk of the one boy who was still laughing, a blue-eyed boy with brown hair. "Especially you, Andrew. Quiet."

She gave Arthur his test as well with a brief apology, since he had, in fact, been one of the few that got a decent grade. Arthur glanced at the grade, shrugged, and put it away. Andrew, who by the look on his face hadn't done well at all, made a face at the teacher's turned back and tore the test in two. Scrunching the two halves into a single ball, he made to toss it into the trash can on the opposite side of the room but missed.

"Andrew, I'm taking the tests back up. Pick that up and tape it back together."

He did as she said, grumbling, while she continued handing out the tests. The final test she smiled at briefly before returning it. "Well done, Viola," she said warmly. "But it's as I would expect of you."

Viola didn't need to look at the test. She nodded in acknowledgement and accepted the test, placing it face-down on the desk until the teacher called them back. Yawning, she cupped her chin in her hand and watched the clock placed above the classroom door. Two more minutes. Then one more class, and then they could go home.

The class was grumbling about their tests. Viola thought about taking out her book to read, but decided against it since the bell would ring soon. No point in starting a chapter she couldn't read all the way through . . .

"What did you get, Viola?"

Viola turned her eyes to the amber-eyed boy next to her, named Tucker. He reached for the test and when she didn't make a move to stop him, picked it up.

"Wow!" Tucker exclaimed. "Wow, Viola, that's amazing! I wish I was that smart." He frowned at his own paper and spread it out on his desk. "Mine's bleeding. Look, I missed so many the ink seeped through the page."

She saw Andrew roll his eyes and mutter something to his buddies, who laughed and snickered in their direction. Viola ignored them but it didn't escape Tucker's notice.

Then the bell rang. The class scrambled from their seats as the teacher called, "Leave your test on your desk for me to pick up!"

Tucker was glaring. "Their grades aren't anywhere as good as yours. He's just jealous."

"Most people are." Viola shouldered her backpack and led the way out of the classroom. They started heading to the final class of the day.

Tucker was still scowling which, rather than making him look fierce, did the exact opposite. Tucker was very short for his age. He had a round face and light, feathery hair. His appearance earned him the nickname of "shrimp" from people throughout the school. Although he was often made fun of, he didn't seem to be bothered by it at all.

People had their opinions about Viola as well. She wasn't sure exactly what they were, but she was pretty sure they were on the negative side. She thought she heard someone say once that she was snobby. Maybe she was. She didn't let herself care.

"Maybe you can tutor me again," Tucker grumbled. "I did well when we did that for awhile, in eighth grade. Not since then, though."

"Sure," Viola said.

"Really?"

"If you want me to, I don't mind." They had reached their destination. Viola pulled open the door. "Text me when you want me to come over."

"Wow, thanks, Viola!" Tucker exclaimed happily. "You sure you're not busy or anything?"

"That's why I asked you to text me."

"Oh yeah."

"But, for the most part, no." Most of her schedule was consumed by studying, school, or reading for leisure.

Or music.

Tucker darted into the music room and Viola followed, closing the door behind her. It was a large room, empty except for music stands and chairs and bustling orchestra members.

Viola and Tucker grabbed their instrument cases and separated to get into their own individual positions. Viola sat down in the first chair, the leading position, of her instrumental section. She opened up the case to reveal her gleaming viola. She took it out, fascinated as always by the beauty of the instrument's design. Viola was not named after the instrument, but she had always felt a connection to it and music in general.

At least she no longer fumbled with the viola.

Viola was left-handed.

She hadn't been able to find a viola made for left-handed players, so she'd just decided to learn how to play right handed. It had been frustrating at first and sometimes she still stumbled a little, but that happened very rarely. Tucker, Arthur, and Andrew, also the first chairs and leaders of their own sections—Arthur the cellos, Andrew the first violins, and Tucker the second violins— were left-handed as well but also played right-handedly.

The teacher asked for the attention of the orchestra and gave the song that would be worked on this class. The students dutifully turned to the piece. He began to conduct them. The room filled with music as they started playing the first piece, which was the most difficult. It had a solo in it, which had been assigned to Andrew. When he was done and the last part of the song was completed, the teacher allowed them to rest for a moment before starting a new piece. Viola was able to memorize it quickly and began to run through it herself on the viola before the teacher called the orchestra back together.

* * *

Arthur wanted a car.

He watched with envy as that blonde, dark-eyed girl from English class—the smart one whose name he'd never bothered to learn—pulled out of the parking lot in a minivan. Not the hottest car, obviously, but he resented the fact that she at least didn't have to sit on the bus for an hour and a half a day to get home. Even Andrew got to hitch a ride with an older boy whom Arthur assumed was his brother.

But it wasn't to be. Granted, Arthur didn't turn sixteen for another couple of months yet, but it was doubtful that he would get a car even if he did manage to pass his driving test. His driver's ed teacher hated him for the driving days they spent together.

But he snorted with laughter when he looked out the school window and saw Tucker get on his bus. At least he wasn't that unlucky. He'd heard around the school that Tucker had taken the driving test several times and had somehow managed to fail every single one. Apparently the poor kid turned into a nervous wreck once he got behind the wheel. Pathetic.

Feeling better about himself, he whistled as he walked down the deserted hallway. He figured he had a few minutes left yet before the bus driver, who had long ago realized that Arthur wasn't exactly punctual, got tired of waiting anyway and left without him. He picked out his locker and spun the lock, entering his combination. He was too impatient, though, and it refused to open. Arthur stopped whistling and frowned; he rolled his eyes, and entered the combination again, slowly this time.

As he did he went through what homework he had in his head. Math . . .well, he would need to do that to avoid a failing grade. History he could start, and maybe finish during lunch or something. Science he could copy from someone tomorrow and then reword the answers so the teacher wouldn't notice his "cheating"—which he preferred to call, borrowing information; his argument being that all information was "borrowed" anyway in the first place, from those people you learn about in history. He decided to leave his English book in his locker—his grade was good enough that he could slack off tonight so his grade would go down tomorrow, but still be decent. He would rather watch T.V. tonight, anyway.

The locker door swung open, but he was taken by surprise by a light that momentarily blinded him. He blinked rapidly until all the spots in his vision disappeared and his eyes had adjusted to the light. Then he looked into his locker to see some sort of winged, glowing reptile sitting on his schoolbooks.

It looked up at him. It tilted its head.

They made eye contact.

Arthur shut the door.

He sighed. So it had finally happened. School had _finally_ driven him insane. Well . . . it was bound to happen eventually.

_Okay_, he thought. On the count of three, he would try again, and only his schoolbooks would be there. One. Two.

Three.

He opened the locker again and peered warily inside. Sure enough, the little reptile was gone. Arthur started piling his books into his backpack and fought the zipper. Slinging the backpack over his shoulder, he almost laughed at himself for being ridiculous when a little chirp came next to his ear. Arthur shied away and jerked his eyes away from the interior of his locker to the open door, where the little reptile thing was hanging.

"AH!"

Arthur jumped backwards and tripped over his own feet. His overstuffed backpack exploded when he hit the floor. The reptile let go of the locker door and flapped its wings a million miles a minute, gliding from its perch on the door to where Arthur was struggling to separate himself from his bursting backpack and to see through the mass of papers fluttering to the floor.

Arthur finally managed to shrug off his backpack, and he reached up and shook several empty gum wrappers from his hair. "Wha . . . whoa!" he exclaimed as the little creature fluttered dangerously close to him. He scrambled backwards. "What are you? Wait—hey!" He ducked as it zoomed over his head. "Stay away from me!" The creature circled and kept coming for him. Arthur jumped to his feet and, forgetting about his papers and backpack, bolted for the door. He pulled frantically at it. It didn't budge.

"What!" he exclaimed in exasperation. They couldn't have locked the doors already! School had only been out for ten minutes! He glanced behind him to see that the reptile had closed in and yanked harder on the door, throwing all of his strength into trying to open the door.

He realized that the door was supposed to be pushed open, not pulled, but it was too late—for the reptile had already swooped in, and it brushed his left hand lightly with its claws. Immediately his hand felt inflamed in a way that it never had before. Arthur tried to scratch it, but it was like a rash in that the itching only got worse when he did. He stopped scratching for a second and the pain flared for a moment, but then the agitation faded, and nothing was left of the sensation except for the red marks where his scratching nails had dug into his knuckles.

He shoved his shoulder against the door and it flew open. He started to run, but just as he took his first step out of the school, instead of landing on the walkway, there was a bright flash, the ground gave away, and he fell into blackness.

* * *

When Viola got home the house was empty. Her parents were still at work.

She fixed a quick snack for herself. As she ate quietly, she knew that something was bothering her. The air felt strange and had since she'd walked through the door. She wasn't sure exactly what was strange about it, but it felt like she kept jumping at shadows today.

_Maybe I'm just being paranoid_, she thought.

No sooner had she thought that than a crashing came from upstairs. Viola froze and silently put her food down on her plate.

"Um . . . hello?" she called. No answer.

Viola crept her way to the stairs. If there was someone up there and they had heard her, they hadn't revealed themselves yet. She stood for a moment at the base of the steps, pondering what she should do. If there really was someone up there, it wouldn't be wise to walk in on them. She hesitated, then walked up the stairs, careful not to make much noise, and peeked into her bedroom.

Nothing was there. Everything was in order. Except for the calendar, which had apparently fallen off the bulletin board and crashed to the floor.

Viola picked up the calendar and pinned it back to the bulletin board, glad that that had been all the noise was. She should have known; it happened all the time. She turned to leave—

—and found a reptilian face an inch from hers.

Viola shrieked in surprise and fell backwards, onto her bed. The little creature screamed as well and darted behind the curtains. Viola could still see it because the strange light emanating from its body glowed from behind the fabric.

"What _is_ that!" Viola cried. She grabbed the nearest pillow and hoisted it above her head, ready to throw it if she deemed it necessary.

Silence fell for several moments. Viola kept her pillow ready to throw at any second. The creature hovered behind the curtain in fear.

Then it poked its head out again for another look.

They studied each other. Viola saw that it looked like a little, miniature dragon, however absurd that idea might seem. She almost mentally admonished herself for thinking such a thing, but the reality was right in front of her. It had two small, hind legs, and two wings, which it flapped at high speeds, like a hummingbird, to stay airborne, and its body glowed with a golden light.

The creature, in turn, focused on her, its gaze growing more purposeful with every passing moment. Viola wondered what it was looking at in her so intently. Slowly, it nodded to her, and pulled the rest of its body out from behind the curtain. It looked like it was preparing to move.

"_You_ stay away from me," Viola told it.

It didn't listen. Rather, it zoomed forward. Viola threw the pillow, but it was too quick, and she missed by a large margin. It was heading for her left hand, which was still raised from throwing the pillow; since it was raised it was easy to swing around, and Viola swung and swapped the creature clean out of the air.

As soon as her left hand came into contact with the little creature her hand started to burn. The burning didn't _hurt_, necessarily, but it was something she'd never felt before. Viola winced and clutched her hand.

But when Viola flinched, the burning disappeared. Faded. Like she wasn't ready for it yet.

She took her hand away and examined her left hand. Nothing was there.

"What was that!" she growled to the creature on the floor. "Some kind of poison or something? What _are_ you?"

The creature glowed brighter. Light flooded the room, even though dark was falling. It was blinding.

All Viola could see was a blast of light that consumed her. And then, nothing at all.


	3. Where Am I?

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Legend of Zelda series, or any of its content.**

* * *

When Viola came to she was lying on a hill in a grassy field. She sat up slowly and put her hand to her head, groaning. Why did she have such a headache?

She realized she was no longer in her bedroom. Gazing at the unfamiliar territory around her, she automatically drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, hugging herself. _Where am I? _she panicked.

The field had grass that came up to her knees. There were a few ponds and lakes that she could see from the hill she was sitting on. She was sitting in the shade of one of the only trees to be seen for miles. Everything else was just green, rolling plains.

Viola saw something in the far distance, just on the horizon, silhouetted against the sky. She squinted, trying to see what it could be. It looked like a turret. Part of a castle? And from what she could see even though she was so far away, beneath the castle was a huge city. A medieval metropolis.

"What the . . ." she said aloud, but was interrupted by a loud chirp above her head.

She looked up. The hummingbird dragon thing was hovering above her. Her eyes narrowed. "You again," she said. It chirped again, apparently happy that it had her attention. It flew to the tree and landed on top of one of the fruits that apparently grew on the tree. It looked at her again.

Her stomach growled loudly and Viola's hands flew over it. She hadn't realized she was so hungry. But hadn't she just eaten? "How long was I sleeping for . . ."

The dragon chirped again and gnawed at the stem of the fruit until it came free. It fell from the tree and landed in Viola's lap. She picked it up, an apple.

Viola turned it over in her hands while the little creature severed another apple, which fell by where Viola was sitting. As she lifted the fruit to her mouth she paused as the little dragon flew down from the tree and settled beside her, with its own apple. It seemed perplexed about how it would eat it with such tiny teeth, but it started biting into it anyway.

Viola lowered her hand again and placed the apple beside her. She cupped her chin in her hands and watched the dragon, and when it noticed her staring at it, it looked up and tilted its head in a perplexed manner.

"What are you that you're trying to take care of me?" Viola demanded, pointing at her apple.

It didn't answer her—it probably couldn't in any way she could understand—and she unhappily took a bite out of the apple. She tried to think as she chewed. No use trying to figure it out on an empty stomach.

They sat, eating their apples, on that hill in the grassy field, while Viola could not come up with any logical reason that she was there and why her bedroom—no, everything that even looked remotely familiar—was gone. No . . . not just gone.

Viola looked again at the blue sky and the far away castle, and then turned her attention to the flowers that she didn't recognize and the strange little bugs—some of them glowed—and the dragon eating an apple not two feet away. There were several travelers that passed by in the distance riding on horses or in the occasional wagon, instead of cars, and something flitted by her ear that she would have thought was a bug . . . but when she got a closer look at it before it flew away she could have sworn that it looked like a fairy, and the tinkling laugh in her ear before it disappeared made it difficult to think otherwise.

It was like she was in a different world entirely.

* * *

When Arthur awoke there was a pretty, little girl sitting beside him. She was maybe three or four years old. She had bright eyes and a sweet smile. Her entire face lit up when she saw him awake and looking at her. She giggled.

She was so cute that Arthur couldn't resist smiling back, and when he did her giggles broke into outright, delighted laughter. She buried her little hands into the hay below them and lifted it up into the air, tossing it and watching it fall down and land in their hair, and it was when he picked a straw of hay from his hair that Arthur realized—

He was in a barn.

Arthur sat up and sneezed. He hurriedly swapped the other needles of hay from his hair and face before they made him sneeze again, and he looked around the barn. It was filled with some breed of enormous goats that he had never seen before. That wasn't saying much since he didn't know too many animal species to begin with, but he was certain that there was something about these goats that just didn't seem like the goats he knew at all. They were tall, taller than a cow, and bulky. Their fur was grey and their horns were huge—they twisted up above their heads and because the horns were so big, the animals were forced to lower their heads to carry the weight.

Dozens of these goats were placed in stalls in the long barn, which was dimly lit not by electricity, but by small candles and torches.

The girl giggled again, looking up at him through hair now messy and entangled with hay. She pointed towards the high roof of the barn. Arthur looked up to see the little dragon bug thing from his locker dangling from a beam that crossed the roof. He frowned but just then the door burst open with a _BANG_ that shook the barn and made the goats bleat and stomp their hooves nervously in their stalls. A man stood there.

The first thing Arthur noticed was how strangely the man was dressed. The second thing he noticed was that the man looked very, very angry, and was swiftly advancing on Arthur with fire in his eyes and a pitchfork.

"What are you doing in my barn?" the man growled. His eyes landed on the little girl and they narrowed even more. He grunted, and the little girl stumbled away from Arthur to behind the leg of the big, burly man.

Arthur gulped and looked from the strange man to the little girl to the creature watching on the ceiling. He began, "You know, I'm not really sure—" but found a pitchfork inches from his throat before he said any more.

The man's dark, bushy eyebrows kneaded together. He was short but sturdy, and his lip curled as he spoke, evidently a sign of fury. The man jabbed his weapon in Arthur's direction a few times, angrily, and as his voice rose in anger his speech became more and more inundated with a heavy, colloquial dialect—also, as Arthur gathered from the other signs, an indicator that at the moment, this man was not a happy camper. "I'll bet I know what you're doin' here. I'll bet ya helped yourself to a helping of my goats' milk, didn't ya? Didn' ya!" Arthur's nose wrinkled at the mention of goats' milk. _Goat's _milk! That was disgusting. The man jabbed the pitchfork forward again. Arthur flinched away. "A big ol' helping, and then ya passed out on the floor of my barn."

"Um . . . no?" Arthur said, and to the surprise of the man, poked the pitchfork lightly to get it pointing at something that wasn't his face. "I was going to my bus when I found that thing in my locker—" He pointed upwards, but when they looked the creature had apparently moved to another part of the barn, so he let his finger drop with a sigh. "And sometime between then and now I ended up here." He got up and dusted off his shirt and jeans, at which the man looked at confusedly. Arthur assumed it was because his clothing was so different than the man's own outfit, since Arthur tended to dress _normally_. "Anyway, sorry to bother you. I'd be glad to get out of your hair," he said. He hurriedly walked to the nearest door before the man got angry again and stopped him.

He pulled it open and was met with a sight that was most definitely not reminiscent of what he would call home. There were cobblestone streets. They were fairly narrow, and houses and buildings were crowded together on either side of the road. An enormous mob of strangely dressed people chattered excitedly as they dodged horses and carts and carriages. Children dressed as strangely as the little girl in the stables ran and played with dogs and cats that scampered across the streets, avoiding the wheels of the wagons pulled by horses. Their mothers were quick to scold them. Arthur spotted one or two men in shining armor walking up the street, swords swaying at their sides.

There were workshops, up and down the streets, generating noise as the workers, of which a startling amount were busy craftsmen, scolded apprentices or talked with clients or just worked. There were too many to count. Glassblowers competed for an enthusiastic crowd to see who could create a piece in the shortest time. Fortune tellers dove into the crowd to follow a thread of destiny that had caught their eye in the mass of people; storytellers waited for the crowd to come to them and they told their tales. A blacksmith pounded on weapons and armor.

And, above the rows upon rows of medieval-style buildings, townhouses, and cottages, rose the mighty, stone turrets of a castle.

There was plenty more, but Arthur had had enough. He felt as if, if his eyes and ears took in any more information than they already had in that fraction of a second, his mind would implode. He shut the door with a quiet _click_. The noise became distant and muffled behind the door.

"Um," he croaked out as he turned back to face the pitchfork. He grinned nervously. He noticed that he was shifting from foot to foot and that the palms of his hands were covered in a layer of sweat, but he couldn't stop. "Um, I'd be glad to get out of your hair. But where am I?"

* * *

_Stay calm . . . stay calm . . ._

Viola and her new dragon partner and been travelling down a worn path through the field in the direction of the castle for a while now. The dragon had wanted to head in that direction and Viola had agreed, since she would probably be better off in some sort of town than in a middle-of-nowhere field. The path must have been well-used because no grass grew over the road where many imprints left from boots, horseshoes, and wagon wheels could be seen. Some of them looked fresh.

Not long ago some strange people on horseback had passed Viola, evidently also on their way to civilization. They were men, dressed in full body armor, with swords, shields, spears, and coats of arms draped over themselves and their mounts. They'd stopped to comment on Viola's strange attire and warn her that nowadays it was dangerous to travel on her own when nightfall would come so soon. They didn't seem to have any room for her, but before going on their way, one of them took out an old dagger that they did not need anymore and insisted that she take it with her. Viola had tried to refuse it because she didn't foresee herself needing a dagger anytime soon. But he'd insisted so she'd had to accept.

But then again, having some sort of weapon in an unfamiliar place may not be a bad idea. But why did he seem so worried? What came out at night that made it unsafe for travel? She sighed. He was probably crazy. Their outfits suggested at least that much.

_But why did he think I dressed so strangely? _Viola grumbled in her thoughts, looking down at her plain T-shirt and jeans. _They're the ones dressed like Renaissance festival outcasts. And what was with those pointed ears?_

The castle was farther away than it had seemed. Her dragon had apparently insisted that they start moving towards the city immediately after they ate their apples. At least, that was what she assumed it meant when it tugged her hair until she stood up and started walking. So far they'd been walking for hours and frankly, Viola was getting tired and irritated. They were probably in the last quarter of the distance, but soon it would be dark.

As the last ray of sunlight slipped away, Viola shivered. As the sun had gone down the temperature had dropped several degrees very quickly. It was unnatural for anywhere to be so cold at night when the temperature had been so nice during the daytime. It was also weird that everything looked so dark, forlorn, and eerie at night, when it had actually looked somewhat beautiful during the day despite the bitter fact that she didn't know where she was. Viola shivered again, but the second time around she wondered if it was just from the cold. Her dragon whatever-it-was, friend, caretaker, she didn't know, also seemed to think that something wasn't right. It kept sniffing the air and looking all around it, like it was confused and unused to its now-shadowed surroundings.

"Have you been here before? Are you familiar with the general area?" Viola asked it. Her gaze wandered from the puzzled dragon over the dreadfully quiet field and she remembered the strangely dressed people from earlier, and their warning. She paused. "Has it . . . _changed_ since you were last here?"

Of course, it couldn't answer her questions, so she fell silent and just kept looking at the small, faint lights of the city. The dragon continued to flit around anxiously. Then it flew ahead and stopped around a hundred yards away, poking around. Viola could tell by just watching it that it was disturbed. She watched its bobbing figure and the small light coming from it for a few seconds. Then she turned her attention back to the path in front of her, but not before she tripped over something.

"Ow." Viola muttered, standing back up to brush herself off. Something was jutting out of the ground. Upon examination, it looked like a bone that was just buried in the middle of the road. The dragon was getting farther away, so she walked a little faster to catch up. _Stupid dragon_, she thought as she closed the distance between them. "Hey, don't forget that I'm here—"

_Crack . . . crack . . . crunch . . ._

Twenty yards down the road, Viola froze at the sound of bones scraping against each other. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and goose bumps ran up her arms in seconds. She turned around to find the source of the noise. The earth around the bone she had tripped over was moving, crumbling as something dug its way out of the ground. The white bone of a four-legged animal's foreleg appeared fully and it glowed eerily in the moonlight. A growl followed.

The dragon, which had come back while she watched, squealed softly in surprise and fear and ducked behind Viola. The foreleg found a hold on the ground and hauled out the rest of its body. Or, what was left of the rest of its body. It resembled a dog, but it was bigger than any dog Viola had ever seen. And it was a skeleton of a dog, with demon-like, glowing, red eyes and patches of rough, bloody fur still clinging to its bones. The teeth in its massive jaw shone. Many of the teeth were broken, but they didn't look any less sharp.

It started to sniff the ground around it. Maybe it was looking for whoever had tripped over its remains.

Viola forced herself to breathe normally, but quietly. She took one step back, then another, slowly, trying not to draw attention to herself by backing away into the night. _Maybe it won't see me . . . maybe it wants nothing to do with me . . . _She looked closely for a stomach. It couldn't possibly want to eat her, after all, because it didn't have one. She glanced behind her shoulder. The castle. If she could just get far enough away from this thing she could make a run for it and get there within what she estimated might be ten minutes. It was already sniffing around where she had passed, but if she could start running without it noticing her she might still have a chance.

_Snap!_

The dog's head snapped up just as Viola looked down to see the broken twig beneath her shoe. It turned its glowing red eyes on her hungrily and they grew brighter. Then it screamed a howl that pierced the night. At its call, to Viola's horror, other places in the ground around her started to churn, and half a dozen dogs began to pull themselves from the earth just as this one had done.

_Not good!_

Viola turned and broke into a run. It was probably her only hope now. She heard the dogs barking behind her and prayed that she had a good enough lead to stay ahead of them.

She didn't. Within seconds they were snapping at her heels and clothes. The dragon, though scared as it was, tried to nip at any dogs that got too close and shone its light in their eyes in the hopes that it might slow them down. It didn't help much, but it was something.

_Think!_ Viola looked around desperately and caught a glimpse of water beyond a cliff that was not far away. A lake! That should work. These things came from the earth, not water, and she doubted that with their skeletal build they could swim at all. She angled herself towards the lake and sped up, trying desperately not to be taken down.

But one of the dogs leapt and tackled her from behind, pinning her to the ground only yards away from the lake. She was almost there. Pain flowered in her shoulder where its claws ripped through her clothes and raked her skin. She looked up into the jaws of the giant animal above her, the rotting breath, the red eyes, the snapping teeth. The other dogs paced around them, their jaws dangling open as if they were cackling. Viola's mind whirled wildly as the dog opened its jaws and prepared for the final strike. She was going to die. She squirmed under the weight of the dog and the strength, despite the lack of muscle. She couldn't fight this!

Just as the teeth came at her, her hand, as if moving on its own, slipped the dagger out of her back pocket and in a single, smooth motion shoved it through the dog's bottom jaw, slamming its jaws shut and jamming the dagger through the jaw, up into its skull. Its eyes flared, growing a brighter red than before.

For a moment Viola was scared that she'd only made it angry but her hand kept pushing the dagger up further, almost instinctively. She was dimly aware of how the back of her hand was prickling, as it had earlier at the dragon's touch, but feverishly this time. The eyes, the awful eyes, flickered and faded. The dog whined. Then it burst into black, clouded dust.

The other dogs leapt at her but she was already on her feet. Viola scrambled and ran the last of the distance to the lake. She jumped off of a small cliff. She crashed into the water and swam down as deep as she could go. Then she looked towards the surface and waited for one of the dogs to jump in. She figured it was safe by the time she couldn't hold her breath anymore and the dogs had not followed. She swam up and burst through the surface. Shivering hard, she looked up.

The dogs were gathered at the top of the small cliff that she'd jumped off of. They whined and growled and snapped at her, but they wouldn't come near to the edge of the cliff. So she'd been right. They couldn't swim.

Ignoring the frigid water the best she could, Viola kicked out to the middle of the lake, where she felt she was safest from the dogs. She looked at her left hand, which had stopped stinging altogether just before the dog had exploded. Was something wrong with it? Maybe touching the dragon had poisoned her after all. Maybe she could get it looked at in town.

She realized she was still holding the dagger and put it away, carefully sticking it through the fabric of the pocket of her jeans for temporary safekeeping. For now, if it was out of sight, it was out of mind. She didn't want to think about what she had done just now and what had just happened, or how or why.

Suddenly exhausted as she had never been before, she simply floated on her back and let the water rock her back and forth. The sound of the waves lapping up against the distant shore was almost soothing. A pair of the dogs left, trotting away to return to the earth where they'd come from. The remaining dogs paced around the lake, trying to find a way to get to her. When they couldn't, they simply sat down and kept their glowing red eyes on her. They knew she would probably come out eventually.

"Stay there all night if you want to," Viola called out to the nearest one, which stood up and began to pant excitedly, thinking that she was going to come out so the hunt could resume. Her voice shook horribly, but whether it was out of fear or from the cold, she couldn't tell. "But I'm staying right here." They would probably get bored eventually. She would leave when they were gone.

She looked up at the sky and the disappointed monster sat back down when she didn't make any move to get out of the lake. The moon was bright. So were the stars . . .

Viola admired the beauty of the stars. Out in the middle of nowhere, with no lights nearby, she could see millions of stars. She tried to calm her nerves and ignore the dogs by searching for constellations. But no matter how hard she looked, she couldn't find any that she was familiar with. She couldn't believe it. They were simply different stars in a different sky.

She sighed. _Where am I?_

__

_

* * *

_

No noise filled the room save for the steady tick-tocking of an old, wooden, shoddy-looking clock that was the only object on one entire wall, and the hungry sounds of the flickering flames that devoured the wood from the hearth. The room, even though it was the main room in the house, was very small, and it was used as not only the living room, but as the dining and kitchen areas as well. In addition to a table and chairs, there was also one old couch in front of the hearth, and a small bookcase on one other wall. Several books, each covered in mountains of dust, sat on the shelves. There was no electricity, so the room was dimly lit by several candles that had been placed throughout the room. The room was also lit by the hearth, in front of which the small girl from earlier played on the floor.

Arthur's eyes wandered over the toys that the girl was playing with. The primitive, wooden horses and soldiers were much different than the Barbie Dolls or Xbox's that Arthur was used to seeing. He had also taken interest in the clock, which had strange symbols on it that Arthur could not make out—he had to assume that they were probably there for decoration instead of to actually be read—and it did not seem to tell time by hours, minutes, or seconds, but by a far less complex system. It looked to him like it told the general time of day—for example, noonday, afternoon, evening, or night, which had since fallen—instead of exact time in hours and minutes. Arthur would have liked to ponder the clock for a while longer, but right then he found himself in the middle of a rather unsettling conversation.

"Castle Town?"

A plate of food—two stale rolls of bread and a chunk of meat—was placed in front of Arthur. He breathed in the smell deeply. His mouth began to water for the meal, even though it was rather meager by the standards he was used to. He hadn't realized how _starving _he was. The man from earlier—Gonzo—sat across the table from him, watching him. Arthur took a bite of the roll of bread, returning the stare while he ate. The roll was gone in seconds and he reached for the other. Gonzo, Arthur decided, was much less frightening when he wasn't charging at Arthur with a pitchfork.

Gonzo's wife, Rina, who had kindly cooked Arthur the meal, moved around the table and sat down next to her husband, wiping her hands on a towel. Their daughter—the girl from earlier, Meggie—was hungry, so Mrs. Rina gave Meggie a role of bread to tide her over until she made dinner for the rest of them.

"Where's that?" Arthur said around a mouthful of food. Embarrassed, he reached for the glass to take a drink to wash it down. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of goat's milk and gently set it back down without taking a drink.

Gonzo and his wife shared looks of worry and confusion that didn't escape Arthur's notice. "Castle Town," Mrs. Rina said to Arthur while Gonzo got up from the table and walked over to the bookcase, "is the capital of Hyrule."

"Oh. Okay." Arthur tried to remember what he'd learned in his geography class. "Is that in Europe or something?"

Gonzo fingered the spines of the few books on the shelves and quickly snatched the one he was looking for. He returned to the table with a thick, leather-bound book in his hand, that he was wiping the dust off of with his hand. He flipped to the page that he was looking for and spread it out on the table for Arthur to see. Arthur leaned forward to get a look. "This is a map of Hyrule," Gonzo explained. He pressed his finger to a dot at the heart of the map. "This is Castle Town."

Arthur looked at the map where Gonzo was pointing but found that he was far more concerned by, not where his present location might be, but by the fact that he could not read the lettering.

. . .

Well then. That was new.

Since when had he been illiterate?

"Is it ringing any bells, son?" Gonzo said.

Arthur didn't hear him. He was too busy frantically glancing at the different words on the map that didn't make any sense, and at the weird clock with the symbols that maybe were supposed to be read after all, simultaneously trying to figure out how he had lost the ability to read.

No . . . that wasn't it.

He squinted at the rune-like symbols that dotted the map, more closely this time. They were unlike any language he had ever seen. These people _spoke_ what _he_ called English, but they sure didn't write in it.

". . . What the heck is this?"

* * *

The last dog didn't disintegrate until dawn. All of the others had left within the past few hours, but one waited at the edge of the lake, patiently waiting to see who would give in first: it, or Viola. When the first fingers of dawn lit up the eastern sky and crossed the hills of the field, however, the dog spontaneously burst into a cloud of dust that was blown away by the breeze.

Exhausted, Viola kicked out for the shore. She wasn't entirely sure that the dogs were gone for good, but they were gone for now and that was good enough for her. She hadn't slept at all and had been treading water all night long, and if she had to stay for another minute, no, _second_, in that dark, cold water, there was a high probability that she was going to _scream_.

The dragon that flew beside her was equally tired. It hadn't slept as well. Instead, it had kept Viola awake so that she could keep treading water, always hovering close to her face to shine light in her eyes whenever she nearly fell asleep. Now its head drooped and it barely gave off any light from its tiny body.

Viola stumbled out of the lake, shivering, and collapsed with a sigh of relief on the shore. She took the dagger from her pocket and threw it down to the ground beside her.

"I think . . . we should sleep . . . for a few minutes."

The dragon agreed.

* * *

"We can't keep him here!"

Arthur absentmindedly pushed a wooden horse across the floor. The wheels on its hooves squeaked in protest. He probably wasn't supposed to be listening to the conversation outside, but it could hardly be said that he was eavesdropping when the bedroom door was so thin he would have been able to hear a pin drop on the other side.

"But we can't just kick him out—you saw how bewildered he was. The poor boy's not in his right mind."

"Rina, we can't afford another mouth to feed."

His outstretched arm began to retract, dragging the horse back with it.

It was early morning. Dawn had just broken. It had been a long and emotionally exhausting night. He'd stared at the senseless map in the book for so long and hard that the visual image, funny letters and all, was burned into his memory and was still floating within his sight.

_Hyrule . . . Castle Town . . . _Castle _Town_ . . . _Hyrule . . ._ Both English letters and some of that odd language—Hylian, they'd called it—swam before his eyes. He frowned deeply in frustration and his movements became more forceful as he rolled the horse to and fro. The screeching just got louder, which didn't help much. His head pounded.

_Calm down. Focus. Focus on the horse_. Back. And forth. Back, and forth. That was it. Back and forth.

But seriously.

Where the hell was he?

"We have to."

The question whirled around in his mind, sparking the wave of unanswerable questions all over again for the hundredth time that night. Frustration bubbled up inside of him as he rolled the horse back and forth with so much vigor that it nearly toppled over on its side.

"_We can't_!"

The horse went flying from his grip.

_Crash_.

Arthur gazed indifferently at the pieces of the toy that were now strewn along the wall he was facing. He'd lost control and it had slammed so hard into the wall that the poor thing's head and neck had snapped right off. Only sharp splinters that jutted out from the horse's shoulders were any indication of where the head had been. A leg had flown into a corner in the small room. One of the tiny wheels that had been attached to horse's hooves wobbled slowly across the floor and disappeared under the bed.

With a sigh, Arthur got up from the floor and lay down on the bed. It was much too small for him. The room belonged to the little girl, who was still asleep in her parents' room.

It was hard to get comfortable. Arthur wasn't used to the straw-filled mattress and found that no matter what position he chose, a hundred straws were still going to poke him, although he was unsure if most of his discomfort was coming from the straw or from the sick feeling that was brewing in his stomach that had nothing to do with goat's milk.

* * *

Around mid-morning, Viola and the dragonfly were awake and walking. Ideally Viola would have wanted at least a full day to sleep to recover both physically and, she thought, possibly mentally from the previous day's events, but both she and the dragon were eager to get within the city walls and out of the field as quickly as possible. No doubt they would be safer behind those castle walls than wandering out in the field, night or no.

Even if Viola was lacking in any measure of common sense—which wasn't the case—the deep gash from her shoulder down her arm, and her bloodstained sleeve, which she hadn't noticed or remembered until she'd woken up, were enough evidence of the dangers. She wasn't a doctor by any stretch of the imagination, but she didn't think it was serious. It looked messy, but it wasn't bleeding anymore. However . . . the wound hurt. _Hurt_. Quite a bit, but she figured nothing could be done about it at the moment. Except walk.

Besides, Viola was hungry and sure that a cold was coming on. She felt like she hadn't eaten in days. One measly apple was not enough food to fuel, not only hours of walking, but fighting—or, more accurately, running for her life from—skeletal mongrels as well.

"Finally," she muttered as she and the dragon crossed the crest of the last hill. Viola stood for a moment and took in the huge, stone city walls that stretched as far as her eyes could see. The road she'd been following snaked its way down the hill to a bridge that was the final obstacle before one could enter the city walls. She watched as a horse-drawn wagon rolled across the bridge. The guards waved it by, and it disappeared through the city gates.

The dragon squawked suddenly, making her jump, and dove down the hill. Viola ran after it, feeling a burst of relief that they had finally found their destination. The dragon was so excited that she decided that they had to be close to wherever it was taking her.

_Now I can get this whole mess sorted out,_ she thought, elated for the first time since she had woken up in this strange place and running even faster at the thought, _and figure out what the heck is going on._

_And how I can get back home._

"_Hey_!" she called to the dragon, which was at the bridge already and appeared to have forgotten about her. "Wait for me!"


End file.
